


Easy Come, Easy Go

by JiM



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Episode Related, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Series, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-10-25
Updated: 2001-10-25
Packaged: 2018-11-10 07:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11122332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JiM/pseuds/JiM
Summary: Crossing the Line Series - Sort of meandering journey





	Easy Come, Easy Go

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Easy Come, Easy Go

## Easy Come, Easy Go

by anonymous co

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Aren't mine, don't own 'em, thought they were cute and might like to have some fun. Besides, talk about subtext. This is JiM's fault, and Bone's. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. But   


Author's Notes: 

Story Notes: 

This story is a sequel to: Crossing the Line 

* * *

  * Easy Come, Easy Go *** 



Fraser's got a friend from the North visiting. Guy named Quinn. Something about Canadians in Chicago, I swear to God, they end up caught in the middle of an armed robbery and Fraser just about takes a dive off a high rise, and I'm cool, I'm being cool, even though I look up from the street after they tell me and wanna throw up. 

Quinn got him up and on the roof again. I'd kiss Quinn, but that would _really_ blow my cover, and besides, for all I know Quinn might punch me in the head. 'Course, I gotta act normal, so I'm doing the usual good detective thing when what I'd really like to do is put my hand through a wall. 

Fraser's sitting on the stairway while Quinn does something to his hand. Bastard who pushed Fraser over stood on that hand to try and break Fraser's grip. 

I finally get done with the official stuff and make my way over there just as Quinn gets up to stand at the foot of the stairs. "You okay?" 

He nods. "Yeah, I'm fine." 

I want to touch him. "You want someone to take a look at that?" I lift my chin at him, look at his hand. 

He glances down. "No, no, uh, Quinn had some powdered horn, thank you." 

I nod. "That's good, I left my powdered horn in my other jacket." It doesn't even get a flicker from him, so I turn to Quinn. "So, how'd it go today?" 

Quinn hardly looks at me. "Not well." 

I could have told them that ahead of time. But I can't keep my mouth shut. "Well, I coulda told you that, these companies only believe in one thing -money." 

Quinn tilts his head a little and looks at me. "Money." 

Call me a cynic. "Yeah, it buys lawyers, politicians, access, that's the way it works." Welcome to the real world, guys. 

Quinn nods, real solemn. "Thank you." 

Now I'm embarrassed. "Uh, this guy'll take your statement." I flag one of my brothers in blue and Dewey and Huey are coming down the stairs. 

"Vecchio," Huey greets me. 

"Anything on the other guy?" I want the other guy, I want him bad. I want to stuff him in a fucking wall covered with shellac. While he's still alive. Mostly. 

Huey shrugs. "He went out back. Ran through a crowded restaurant wearing a mask _and_ carrying a machine gun." 

"Surprise, surprise, nobody saw him," Dewey adds. 

He's as cynical as I am. 

"Perfect." I'm doing a slow burn inside. I look at Fraser, who's still kinda zoned out, looking at Quinn. "You sure you're all right?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine." 

He doesn't look fine. I mean, sure, physically. But his head is somewhere else. 

Huey and Dewey get the first perp up on his feet and he's complaining, yowling about lawsuits and shit. 

"Let's move this down town. Move the circus down town." I tell them. 

Fraser gets up and moves over to Quinn. "I have to go back to the Consulate." 

I shouldn't be listening, it's not my conversation, but he looks over at me, nods, so I realize he meant for me to hear it. 

Fraser's pretty careful about stuff like that. 

He's got a list of rules. He doesn't want to fuck up my cover as Vecchio, so we have to follow these rules, and even though I know that makes sense, it really tweaks something inside me a lot. 

We still hang out together during the week, but no fooling around, no staying overnight, no &.nothing personal going on. 

And staying overnight isn't something that's gonna happen a lot, either. He says he didn't think of it the first time, but if anyone _does_ check up, they might find it kinda weird that Vecchio's suddenly got a Mountie houseguest overnight. 

That makes sense. I don't like it, but it makes sense. So I deal. 

The rest of the day is a nightmare. Well, most of it. 

Fraser managed to avoid getting thrown off a building by Kelly, and he manages to avoid being run down by Kelly, but he doesn't quite manage to avoid being taken as a hostage by Kelly. 

So, I do a Steve McQueen gig, because Welsh has got SWAT coming in and we hear a gunshot from the goddamned closed up shop, and I go through the window. 

Of course, Fraser's not even bruised. 

Hell if I care, I'm so glad to see him in one piece, I don't even get pissed about the funny little smile he gives me when I cuff Kelly. 

To top it off, all day long guys have been telling me my parents are on the phone, and I thought Huey overheard me talking to Fraser and is pulling a practical joke, but it turns out they _were_ on the phone, and when we get back to the station, Huey tells me they're outside. 

My dad brought me the GTO. That's gotta mean something, right? Fraser disappears before I can introduce him, and they want me to have dinner with them, and even if my dad doesn't say much that's too personal, he talks, we both talk, and my mom's just so damn sweet I keep getting a lump in my throat. 

It's late when I get home. My folks have pulled up stakes from the station parking lot, thank God, and they're off down the road to Skokie, and I can hear the television from inside my apartment. 

Since crackheads don't usually break in to watch television, I get a warm fuzzy. I gave Fraser a key last week, just in case, and he used it, and he's sitting there with Dief watching Discovery when I open the door. Which he left unlocked. 

"I'm going to kill Turnbull," I tell him a minute later, wrapped around him on the couch. 

"That seems excessive." His voice is a little shaky. "How are your parents?" 

"Great. They're great." I've got my face in his neck, I've got him pressed down more or less flat on the couch. "You scared the hell out of me." 

"I'm hardly responsible for Kelly's actions," he mutters. 

"Turnbull is still dead, don't think you're going to distract me." 

"Why are you going to kill poor Turnbull?" 

"Because he's an idiot." I sigh finally and let him up. "Okay, at least he got the word out, I'll only maim him a little." 

"Hmm." He pushes himself upright. "Would it help his chances of survival if I told you he knocked himself out during the abduction, and has two black eyes?" 

"Not unless you gave 'em to him." 

We look at each other for a minute. "Are you all right?" he asks finally. "No lasting damage from having a motorcycle fall on you?" 

"Nah, just a few bruises." I grin. "Wanna see?" 

"Yes," he says seriously, "I do." 

I lean in to lay one on him, but he stands up, yanks me up and into my bedroom. Once we're in there, I realize he's seriously serious. Getting me naked isn't the priority, checking the bruises is. Which would piss me off, except I can relate to that, I'm the guy drove through a window when I thought he was gonna get hurt or killed. 

"Well, that isn't too bad," he finally says. 

Dief is standing in the doorway, watching. I swear, he's dying to know what we do in bed. Who knew the wolf had such a dirty mind? 

Dief whines. Fraser gives him an irritated look and goes to the door. "Out." 

Dief whuffles. Fraser shuts the door, comes back, and knocks me down on the bed. 

Lots of kissing then, and I'm trying to work him out of his civvies and he's trying to get me out of my clothes, but he's heavier and he's doing a lot better at holding me down. Every bit of skin he gets bare, he licks and nips and sucks on, and pretty soon I can't think enough to figure out how to get buttons undone. 

He takes my cock into his mouth, and he's pushing me, sucking hard, working me until I can't do anything but hold on to the bedspread with clenched fists and push into his mouth. His mouth, Christ, and that tongue, and it's hot and like nothing he's done to me before, and then a wet finger presses up inside me, which freaks me out for a minute and then, God, he does something that feels incredible with that finger and I'm just exploding into his mouth. 

It takes me a while to get my breath, and he's squirmed back up beside me, without his shirt, and is running a finger down my chest. "What was _that_ ," I ask him, still panting a little. 

"What?" He leans over and sucks on the closest nipple and I just groan. It feels good, and there's not a damn thing I can do right now. I'm lucky I haven't just melted into a small puddle. 

"What you just did." 

He looks at me innocently. "I think the term is fellatio, Ray." 

"I know that." I look at him. "I mean, the other thing. Have you been reading up or something?" Because, let's face it, we haven't been really experimental so far, not that a couple of weeks is a long time. 

"In a word, yes." 

"Not fair." I push myself up and scowl at him. "Take those jeans off, and I'll show you what _I've_ been reading." 

He looks startled and interested at the same time. "Ah, since you ask so nicely." 

I lean down and go for his shoes. Get them off and get up to take hold of the jeans and pull them off. He's laughing a little, but I'm happy to see that part of his anatomy isn't laughing at all. I settle down across his thighs and hey, my experience isn't that much, but I know what I like, and what works, and I've been thinking about this anyway, believe me. 

And reading, believe me. Studying, you could say, and he tastes like Fraser and sex, and God, listening to the sounds he's making in his throat is making my dick twitch, never mind I just came. I've got my fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and yeah, I'm using some of the stuff I've read, and I'm as turned on as he is, believe me, and his fingers are moving in my hair, restless, like he wants to just grab on, so I take him in deeper and he groans, deep and low, groans and comes, and I have to swallow or choke. 

But I'm good, I try and remember to gentle my mouth down, because I know he's gotta be sensitive, but it's so hot to feel him against my tongue, so hot to taste him, and he finally tugs my head up. "Ray." Hoarsely. 

I climb up then, and kiss him hard. I mean, it's not exactly like proposing, but giving a guy a blow job for the first time in your life is one of those big moments. It's like, well, we're not just fooling around, you know. At least for me. And that's a little scary, because I don't know what the hell Fraser expects from me or wants from me. 

I just know that he means enough to me that I drove a motorcycle through a window and I haven't been on a bike in about thirteen years. 

"Ray." Soft voice, blurry voice, and he puts his hands back in my hair. "Try to avoid motorcycles in the future, will you?" 

I put my forehead against his. "Fraser, it mighta been a little crazy, but it wasn't any crazier than going in after that kid in the warehouse." 

He sighs. "Understood." 

We lie there for a while, just holding on. And then it hits me. Fraser broke his own rules. He's here on a weeknight, and we just got down and dirty. I put my face in his neck, and I think about that. I'm not complaining, but it gives me a funny feeling. 

I think it's a good funny feeling. 

We were both worried today. I guess that's what it means. I finally figure that out and doze off, still kinda half nuzzling his neck. 

Like I said, it's late. 

He's gone when my alarm goes off, which doesn't really surprise me. I got lucky last night, which I didn't expect. So, I go in to the station around eightish, and gotta take some ribbing over my folks showing up and all the snarking I did. 

So I'm dealing, and since I don't talk to Fraser all day, I run by the Consulate, only Turnbull's on the way out and he tells me Fraser isn't there, so I go home, and Fraser's not there, either. 

Well, he's over twenty-one, too, and it's not like we're joined at the hip or had plans, so I tell myself to get over myself and order pizza in, but it's kind of lonely not to have Dief around whining for pizza and Fraser telling him no. 

I don't sleep as well as I do when Fraser's here, though. I never do. Weird. Must be because I was married, maybe, so the body thinks it oughta have somebody else warm in bed. 

Next day, business as usual. And the next day. Still no Fraser. I call the Consulate, and Turnbull takes messages, and now I'm starting to get freaked out. 

He shows up in red serge about six, and I can't decide whether I want to punch him or drag him down the hall to the famous Vecchio/Fraser closet and kiss him. 

"Hi, Ray," he says and sits down in front of my desk. 

"Fraser." I give him a look. "Get my messages?" 

He flushes. "Yes, ah, I apologize, I've been rather busy." 

Okay. Fine. Now my gut's in a knot. I get up and take a file back to filing cabinet, put it in the right place and come back. By that time, I can talk to him in a reasonable tone of voice. "So what's up?" Businesslike. 

He tugs his collar. "I was, ah, wondering if you'd like to go get some dinner with me." 

I have a bad feeling about this. "Sure, Fraser, what sounds good?" Gee, I even manage to sound natural. 

"Oh. Ah, I thought perhaps Cantonese, actually." He looks relieved more than anything. 

I don't know why, but that makes me sad. Like he thought I was going to pitch a fit in the station? 

"Sure, just give me a minute, I gotta drop this on Frannie's desk." I pick up another file and take it over to drop in Frannie's inbox. Come back and grab my coat. "Okay, I'm good to go. Where's Dief?" 

"I left him at the Consulate." 

I nod like that makes sense to me, and we walk out to the car. I unlock the passenger door for him, go around to the other side, and just lean on the car for a minute. I feel sick now, and I don't have anybody to blame but myself. 

I let him convince me that our friendship wouldn't be ruined. That our partnership wouldn't be ruined. But I can't even blame Fraser for that. I wanted to believe it. 

So I get into the car and drive to the restaurant and I manage to act normal. 

We order, and Fraser talks to the waiter in Chinese and I sip at some ice tea. When the waiter leaves, I look at Fraser. "Look, Fraser, just say it, okay? I don't need you to pull the punch, just say it." 

He looks at me, a little worried. "Ray." Rubs his eyebrows. 

Yeah, I got it. I hate being right. "Yeah, okay, I get it." 

He leans forward. "I don't think you do." And now he's frowning. 

I shake my head. "No? You don't have to send Western Union, I got the message." 

Now he's really frowning. "I think we need to slow things down a little, Ray. That's all." 

What the hell does that mean? "Slower than what. You've got these rules already, Fraser, you've got it laid out. So what, once a month?" 

"I've already broken those rules." He looks away. "I needed to see you." 

Oh, Christ, what a couple of fucking losers we are. My chest hurts. "I'm not that Metcalf bitch, Fraser. I'm not going to ask you to fuck your life over for me." 

He jerks in his chair like I hit him. 

I'm falling apart, I have to lock my fingers together to keep my hands from shaking. "Just-let's forget it, okay? I can't do this. It's better this way, Fraser, we'll just let it go. We're still friends, still partners, you don't have to avoid me." 

He looks horrified. "Ray, that's not what-" 

The waiter comes back with soup. Talks to Fraser in Chinese for a minute, and Fraser answers him, but he's looking at me. 

I don't want soup. I really don't want food. I play with the chopsticks while the waiter talks, and slump back in the chair. 

"That's not what I want, Ray." He says it softly, but he's angry. "I just-I don't know how to keep my balance. I have to find it again." 

I look at the chopsticks, twirl them. I can understand that, I can, but now I'm scared. Really scared. "I get that," I tell him, but it's hard to talk. I taste my soup, more for something to do than any other reason. I'm sure as hell not hungry. 

He's ignoring his. Looking at me. "Ray, I don't want to forget this." Now he looks as miserable as I feel. "I don't know, it made sense to me last night, perhaps you're right, I'm overreacting." 

I put the funny spoon down. "I can't do this." My stomach feels like it's somewhere up behind my wishbone. 

"Ray, please." He puts a hand out, not quite touching me. "Please, don't-" 

I wait. Don't what? He doesn't finish, but his eyes, God. "Fraser," I say, real quiet, "I already had my heart cut out with a rusty spoon, you know that. I can't-I can't risk it again. Not if it means we can't even be friends." Now he looks like he did right after I hit him. I can't stand it. I can't stand it either way. I gotta hit the restroom or I really am going to fucking bawl right here. 

"I'll be right back," I tell him roughly and head there. Cold water, deep breaths, and I stare at myself in the mirror and ask myself if I'm the one who's overreacting. 

I don't know, that's the stone truth, and I'm shaking. I'm shaking because I just now figured out that I'm in over my head. 

There's a flash of red in the mirror. I turn around and Fraser is standing there. I swallow hard. "I was just-" 

That's about all I get time to say, because he's there in a rush, and he's got his arms wrapped around me. 

For just a second, I remember we're standing in a public restroom, and then I don't care. "I'm sorry," he says shakily. "I never say things well, Ray. I don't-I'm not good at this, and I have to find my balance, but my feelings haven't changed." 

I put my forehead on his shoulder. "This isn't going to work." Fuck, I _am_ going to bawl if I don't suck it up. "We can't do this here, Fraser, let go of me." 

"No, not yet, listen to me, Ray." His arms tighten, and unless I wanna punch him, I don't have a choice. "Please." 

"I can't do this here." I'm heading into panic mode. "Fraser, they're gonna bring our food." 

"I asked him to wrap it up to take with us." He draws back just a little, and I have to look at me. "We need to work through this, Ray." 

Another deep breath. Think, Kowalski, I tell myself, but I'm standing too close to him to think. "Okay." I finally nod. "I'll, uh, I'll meet you at the car. Oh-" I try to free myself to reach my wallet, but he puts his hand over it. 

"I'll take care of it." Very softly. "Thank you, Ray. Thank you." 

I close my eyes. I wish I knew what the fuck was going on. I wish I knew what the fuck to do. 

I don't, though, so I head out to the car. 

It's a weeknight, so I head over toward the Consulate when he gets in the car. He gives me a look, but doesn't say anything, so I guess he wasn't sure either. 

The Ice Queen is long gone, and so is Turnbull, and we take the food back into that hole Fraser lives in. Christ, the least they could do move some of the storage shit out of his office, but no, I think the Ice Queen gets her jollies giving Fraser a hard time. 

I sit down in his chair, he puts the bag of food down and crouches in front of me. Doesn't say anything, but puts his hands over mine. "I believe we can work through this." So intense, and I'm afraid to touch him. If I touch him, I'm not sure I'll be able to let go. Fucking stupid, how fucking stupid can you be, Kowalski. 

This is how stupid I am, he's leaning up to kiss me, and I'm leaning down to kiss him back, and he slides his hands up my arms while he's kissing the breath out of me. My body perks right up, even if the rest of me isn't sure, and I'm holding on for dear life when he hauls my ass up and over to the cot. 

He's still wearing the damn uniform and he's kissing me. Hard. And I'm not sure this is a great idea, I'm really not, but it would be easier to set myself on fire then to stop. He keeps kissing me, and I'm trying harder than hell to keep from unbuttoning those brass buttons because if I do, I'm seriously sunk, going down for the third time, and how's that for nuts, I'm already well and truly sunk anyway. 

The tunic comes off, evidently he was working while I was trying to stay sane, and goes over the back of his chair and then I'm stretched out on that damn cot with Fraser on top of me, hands under my shirt, and I'm gone, all the way gone, and those damn braces are out of the way and I've got mine under his shirt. Warm skin, hot mouth, and he finally leans up. "Ray." Husky voice. "Ray." And that's all before he kisses me again. 

I can't, I tell him, but my voice isn't working, and even if it was, his tongue is in my mouth and my tongue is returning the favor. 

It's weird, though, he's only touching me under my shirt, just rubbing my chest and belly, and sliding his hands underneath me to rub my back. When he finally moves his mouth, he says my name, sweet and soft, and it makes me shiver. Ray, Ray, Ray, into the skin of my throat, into my hair. 

I'm so scared, I keep shivering. I could deal with it if he just ripped my clothes off and we went at each other, but this &this is scaring me, bad. But, hey, my dick's still hard, and so is his. 

He shifts, then, pulls me with him, and we're lying face to face on this fucking cot. "Ray." He's saying my name again, kisses my eyelids. "Please, Ray." 

I don't get it, and then I do. I think. I'm not sure. But it lets me stop shivering. He's holding back, yeah, but not to be an asshole, not to tease. He's too fucking honorable to try and convince me with sex. 

So what does that leave? Fuck, I'm shivering again, and holding on to him. "Okay. Okay, but slow, like you said. I can't do this, we gotta be real clear with each other. No more of this disappearing and avoiding me, Fraser or it's done, we're done." My voice is shaking. "I mean it." 

He kisses me in answer, nips at my mouth. "No, I won't, it won't happen, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, obviously. Ray, I will always be your friend, I told you that, I swear to you." 

So I give up, I just dive into his mouth and his arms, and then, yeah, then he's all over me, both of us trying to squirm out of our clothes on this stupid cot, and somehow, we manage it, don't ask me how, and he's pressing down hard against me, and our cocks are lined up just right, and I can't get enough of his mouth, of his skin, and Christ, I come hard enough to see colors behind my eyes, and he keeps kissing me. He uses his t-shirt for clean up, which is nice of him, because I've got to wear my clothes back home. 

So we lie there a while, not talking, just sort of nuzzling and kissing now and then. I keep sliding down into a doze and then startling myself awake again because it's a weeknight, and what we just did breaks at least one of Fraser's rules, and I don't want to spend another couple of days like the last few so I'm not going to break another one. 

"I gotta go," I finally say, the fifth or sixth time I nearly leap out of my skin trying to stay awake. 

He nods, presses a kiss just behind my ear. "Are you all right to drive?" 

"Yeah, I'm good, I'm good." I shift out from under him and try and find my clothes. I'm mostly good, I'm tired, and I'm still feeling a lot like we didn't get anything really solved. 

I mean, the edge is off now, I got what I wanted, sort of, and he got what he wanted, sort of, but I still feel kinda hollow and sad. He puts on some sweatpants and walks me to the door, and Dief, who had to stay out in the hall, ignores both of us. 

I'm about to walk out the door and he tugs me back, hugs me hard and kisses me, takes my face between his hands and looks at me hard. "All right?" 

I swallow and nod. 

It's not until I get home I realize we never did eat. I've got some sandwich stuff, I make myself a sandwich and lie down on the couch with the television sound turned way down. 

Easy come, easy go, I think, out of nowhere, and that's what drives me into the kitchen for the Scotch. Not a lot, I gotta show up for work tomorrow, after all. 

Easy come, easy go. I wonder how long it'll be before it goes. 

* * *

End Easy Come, Easy Go by anonymous co:

Author and story notes above.


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